Tripper's Day

Tripper and Dad

Tripper is in spirit and he is 23 years old today, May 15.  We all celebrated him today, even the few who didn't know him on this earth.

He was a noble horse, so stoic, proud, full of horsepower and full of incredible love.  Tripper was my first horse.  He taught me to love in a fuller, richer and more open way.

I have said many times before and I most certainly will say it again, he was my friend.

My Friend (and Jess the dog)

When I brought Shadow home, his eyes looked up at me and they were alive with old souls.  I could feel them and I could see them in his eyes.

On occasion when Shadow and I are walking, he will come beside me and put his nose in my hand, just as Tripper used to do. Aside from the 1,000 pound difference between them, I sense Tripper.  Tripper is so present and Shadow is the generous host.

Tripper and Alibi

Alibi and Tripper were good friends.  When Alibi became my horse, I moved him and Tripper to the same pasture.  It was anybody's guess who would be the dominant horse.  Tripper gave Alibi a good run for his money and hung in as the alpha as long as he could.  Eventually Alibi moved in, as he does.  But there always remained respect.  Today, Alibi sighed a birthday wish to Tripper.

In my bedside table drawer is a braided heart of Tripper's tail hair.  It's beautiful and lasting.  Fitting for my friend.

Missing a Friend

It was a card on the windowsill that triggered the lump in my throat.  Memories, emotions and longing hit me at once.  A year and a half later, I miss my friend, Tripper.

I don't think you ever get over the loss of a good friend.  They were your friend because your heart had a place for them to begin with.  They help fill your heart.  They brighten your heart.  And they can break your heart.

Heartache is deep.  It's so deep that time or new memories can't reach it.  A cushion can be made around it, to soften it, but no aspirin is great enough to make it disappear.

Through tears and the pang of loss, we can appreciate having loved a friend so dearly and we can feel fortunate for having that love shared.  It is beautiful, after all.

It's okay to take time to grieve again.  Our relationship with our friend is certainly unique.  They may have other friends, but the bond and connection between two individuals is in fact, individual, only, singular, just one.  That is something that is our treasure, to hold and cherish.

And that is why I think we have eternal heartache.  If it is lost from us, it is truly lost.

Peace Comes

There had been something bugging me about the day Tripper left me: June 25. Why that day? Why didn't he come to our new ranch? Was it a Friday that was bothering me? Was it the date? A persistent nagging I could not shake.

On Tuesday, I was talking with Bonnie and telling her the story of losing Tripper. She asked me when that happened and I gave her the date. Again, that tug. What was I missing?

I took some time to sit on the sofa with Pooker and let my mind go. Let the feelings come and go and I did my best to not grab onto any one of them but to let them wash over me and let me feel. My eyes were closed and my breathing was slow and calm.

I saw my friend Fred Burrill. Fred Burrill's birthday was June 25. He would have been in his early 100s this year.

Several of you know who Fred is, many of you do not.

Mr. Burrows as we called him as kids, lived up the street from us. He was a tall man with a tick in his walk. He walked everywhere, he did not drive. Fred would pass our house with his fishing rod in hand and his fishing vest packed with the necessities of his outing. Off he went to catch the bus to head to his post. We would yell over from the porch, "Hi Mr. Burrows!" And his smile would gleam in our direction and his large hand would wave back at us.

We went up to his house to get candy. And he had a never ending supply. He was a happy man. He seemed to have no worries, no enemies, no reason to not be smiling.

Many years later I was visiting my parents and who came walking up the street but Mr. Burrows. He was carrying his grocery bags, this time a little more hunched over. I asked him if I could help him home. We chatted on the way to his house and it was the first time I had ever been inside his house. It was small, a shotgun apartment.

From there, our friendship blossomed. And I learned his name was not Mr. Burrows but Mr. Burrill, or Fred.

I would visit him and we'd play cribbage or listen to Hawaiian music on his old style cassette player or we would head to the super market in my Volkswagen Fox--ample space for me, a bit cramped for my 6'4" friend.

During our visits, he told me stories of his early life, he shared precious pearls of wisdom and he always reminded me, "take it slow."

For one of his birthdays, my dear friend Suzanne came over with her cello and played him a private concert and sang to him. If you could have seen the smile on his face. It was simple and beautiful. I gave him a new music player with buttons that were easier for his curling fingers to press to play his music and with speakers a bit stronger so he could hear better with his aging ears.

One of our last outings was to the Kennedy Library. He didn't come inside, it was getting too difficult to get in and out of the car. But we sat there with the windows open feeling the ocean mist and listening to the waves hit the rocks below and the seagulls singing their nautical tunes. That was a special moment. We both were in the same car yet someplace else in our minds and hearts and enjoying every minute.

Fred moved into a nursing home and I saw him a couple of times. We still managed to get in a game of cribbage.

I moved to Argentina and my mother read me a letter sent to me by a family who knew him. Fred had passed away.

There is great wealth in having someone so wise in your life. His influence was significant. His steadiness and confidence was reassuring and inspiring. He was a good friend.

So, with this memory I have come to understand the meaning of Tripper's death. He came into my life at an important time of transition. He offered me stability and consistency. He was a rock of unconditional love. He was much like my dear old friend, Fred: the one who has been there and done that and who didn't get too riled about anything. He reminded me what was important in life. Fred and Tripper did that.

I am blessed to have had these friendships. And I believe they are intertwined. June 25 was no random day. June 25 made perfect sense and I am so relieved to have put this together.

When I get back to Long Beach and to my photos, I will post a photo of Fred on his concert birthday. You'll see everything in his smile.

Kindness of Others

It is with the kindness of family, friends, neighbors, doctors and animals that I have been healing my heart.

Thank you to all of you who called, stopped by, sent messages and cards and sent your loving energy. From deep down inside I am grateful for your love and caring.

One of the gals at Bend Equine made this woven heart from Tripper's tail hair. It's really beautiful and incredibly special.

Healing a Heartache

Larry and I are in our new home and we are happy, comfortable and so pleased with the remodel results and having air conditioning at 85 degrees.

At the same time we both are feeling a profound sadness. An emptiness that aches and aches on.

On Friday, the day we were moving, in a matter of 3 hours I was faced with the most shocking and unexpected and extremely difficult decision of kissing Tripper one last time as he went off to horse heaven.

So much of what we created here at Om Ranch was created with Tripper in mind. From the fencing to the dry lot to rock collection and pathways. For some reason he wasn't meant to come here. I cannot grasp the why.

Many beautiful things have been said about Tripper and they all hold truth. He was strong and stoic and most other horses with the level of pain he had would be on the ground rolling. He stayed strong for me and did not want me to see his pain. He is in horse heaven under a shade tree with our neighbor horse Twist. His body was giving out a year and half ago and it was his spirit that came alive again to carry him this far. He regained his dignity, something very important to horses, and he died with dignity.

I cannot put words to the pain I feel in my heart.

Tripper opened a part of my heart that I didn't realize existed. He invited me to love in a different way. Without his daily encouragement I feel lost. Can I continue what he has shown me on my own?

Friday morning I went out to greet my boys as usual and I did not see Tripper's ears perking up over the hay and I did not hear his familiar good morning nicker. Alibi and Pippin were there, but not Tripper. I went looking for him up in lava land, a place he never went because the rocky surface was too much on his senior bones.

The gate is at one end of the dry lot so I started calling him and walking in. Some ways in I could see him walking toward my voice. As soon as he saw me, he went down. I ran to him and found him scratched and scraped from head to hoof from rolling around on the ground trying to ease his abdominal pain. He had been in pain for a while.

Gently I got the halter around his confused head and worked with him to get him up. Carla, a gal boarding her horses there, came up to help me and the two of us kept him walking. Pippin and Alibi were behind us, encouraging him to keep going. We got him up to the barn and put him in the round pen to keep him going.

He wanted to lie down and roll again and we had to work hard to not allow that. I called the vet and it seemed to take hours before they arrived. A call for colic is an emergency response.

When they arrived they did a preliminary exam and Tripper's heart rate was dangerously high. They gave him medication to ease the pain. They gave him a sedative so they could put a tube up his nose and down his throat. They had to give him a second dose and still he seemed not to be too sedated. He was a gentleman while they did what they had to to assess his condition.

We walked him back down through the dry lot and through the gate of Jeff and Barb's place to use their trailer. Every horse along the way was calling out to him. He didn't have the energy to walk but he did and he kept going. A good 1/2 mile.

After some other tests, it was determined that part of his small intestine had died, most likely due to a lipoma that cut it off. Apparently, this is somewhat common in senior horses. Surgery didn't suggest high positive odds and even if the surgery did go well, his expected time would maybe be a year.

I had to decide fairly quickly because if we wanted to do surgery, we had to do it right away. There was no knowing how much of his small intestine was affected until the surgery and then only so much of it could be removed.

Tripper stayed standing the entire time. He moved as he was asked. He was polite and kept his manners. I couldn't stop holding him and kissing him and comforting him. I asked him to comfort me.

I held Tripper until his last breaths. When he was gone, I stayed with him for a while just caressing him and playing with his very soft mane. I kissed him again and felt that little bump in his forehead that I felt everyday and I smelled his fresh sweet coat, a combination I enjoyed every day for a year and a half. With my eyes closed I could tell you it was him.

Later when I got back home I went up to lava land to see where he was and what he had experienced. I didn't realize it until then that he was behind my house. He came looking for me.

He never made it to our new home. Here we remember him and talk about him often and we cry. It was a shock. And it is a deep loss that we will feel for a very long time.

I miss my friend. I miss my horse. I miss that part of my heart being touched every morning.

Talking with the Animals

Why this secret of the joy of animals was not apparent to me until just recently, I'll never know. I'm just glad I finally figured it out!

In the course of a day, twice a day at least, I check in on and feed: 6 chickens, 2 dogs, 11 horses, 1 cockatiel and countless wild birds Eventually Larry and I eat.

It's obvious that animals bond to the person with food. And then there is the bonding that goes beyond the feed dish. There is acknowledgement, communication, friendship, companionship, love, sharing, giving and receiving. Mighty enjoyable.

So, Pippin is in the barn with laminitis. For those of you who do not know, this is a painful condition in horses' feet and if treated at the get-go and treated aggressively, the horse can recover. If not treated properly, the condition worsens and can lame a horse to the point of needing to euthanize. A word we do not care for in these parts.

I heard he had a tough day yesterday while I was gone. He was being shod and he flipped himself over backward in cross-ties (ties that connect to a post in the barn and to the sides of his halter.) It could have been the pain of having nails pounded into his feet. Normally, this is painless, but with the inflammation and pain of laminitis, we can only imagine it is not comfortable.

A double-edged sword. The shoes are critical to helping his feet heal.

So, when I got back, I stopped in to the barn to check on him. His face is all scratched up from the flip, his hind is scratched, his side too. He came to the stall door to greet me and show me his wounds.

I said, "Pippin, are you feeling better? Tell me what hurts."

Pippin backed up to the back of the stall, looked at me with focused eyes and in an alternating fashion, he lifted first his left leg, then his right, then his left again and again his right. He walked back up to me and we just cuddled.

He knows I'm there to care for him and help him. I added 3 more bags of pine shavings to give even more cushion to his stall floor.

Today, I was in the dry lot with my boys, Tripper and Alibi, scooping up their poop. They were walking around as they do, following me, nudging me hello, walking off.

Tripper came up to me, smelled the poop bucket I was filling and walked to the side of it. I looked at him and said, "Are you going to poop right there?" He pooped, right there. After he finished, I thanked him for making it so easy for me to pick up and he walked back from where he came.

Oh, the stories are adding up. The greatest thing is to believe and recognize how animals communicate with us. They are not just receiving whatever we send their way. And if you pay attention and listen with your eyes, heart, energy field, ears, hands, smell, even tasting the dust off their face when you kiss them, you will hear them.

It's not always easy to clear everything else out of their incoming communication path, but when you can, the message is loud and clear.

Happy Birthday Tripper

So much time has passed since my last blog. A crashed hard drive, new computer, printer isn't compatible, itunes not backed up... I have been computer-phobic for a while.

Today is Tripper's birthday. So, all the bad computer poo poo must be pushed aside so I can post his photo and write a bit about him.

Tripper is my Quarter Horse and he is 21 years old today. A Taurus for sure. And a sweet sweet horse.

He was here at the ranch when we arrived a year and a half ago. He was in a dry lot with several other horses, one of them the alpha mare who was relentless in her attacks on him. She would chase him from food and water, bite him, kick at him, she would seek him out and separate him from the group.

His coat looked mangy and dull. He was missing hair all over from being bit. He was in pain when he walked from aging bones and the winter cold. His eyes were sad and his spirit broken. The ranch owners (not his owner) said it was likely he wouldn't survive that winter.

It couldn't be. I moved Tripper from the dry lot to a pasture in front of my house. Larry and I showered him with attention and love and positive energy. We brought in another horse, Slammer, who is everyone's friend to give him a little company and a feeling of safety in numbers.

As spring came around and the grass started greening, Tripper ate up the sweet growth giving him the protein and carbs he desperately needed. We watched him get stronger and stronger as the weeks went by.

I groomed him regularly and his coat began to fill in and shine. I worked him in the round pen to regain his strength and reestablish a sense of purpose and pride in his accomplishments.

His owners came to visit one day and walked straight past him calling out toward the dry lot "Tripper!" "Tripper!" Tripper walked up to the fence in response and watched as this couple continued walking, not recognizing their revitalized horse.

After a series of events, not necessary to explain, they decided to sign Tripper over to me as his new owner. I received his papers--which are very interesting to read. This was this past January.

The ranch owners saw him a couple of months back and said, "He is a completely different horse. He has gained at least 5 years on his life." Of course, I look forward to more than 5 years.

Tripper is now healthy, steady, confident, happy, proud, willing and a real love. We have a great time together be it in the round pen, grooming, or just walking around picking up poop in the separate dry lot he shares with Alibi (another story!)

So today, when he turned 21, I had to give thanks and celebrate. I love having him as my horse. I look forward to going out to see him several times a day. I get so excited when he learns something new, even at his age, and I admire his pride when he recognizes what he's done. And I thank him for trusting me to care for him. We both won big.

Tonight he got his evening bucket of barley and oats and glucosamine, with a special topping of many many chopped orange circles. His own birthday carrot cake.

Happy Birthday Tripper!